


Innocence of the Childe

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike's thoughts on Angelus's return.<br/>Post Innocence</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence of the Childe

I can't believe it. Angelus, _my_ Angelus, has returned, soulless and fancy free.   
  


Angelus.   
  


My sire.   
  


My everything.   
  


Bugger, how I've missed him.   
  


Don't get me wrong, Drusilla is wonderful and I love her deeply, have for a hundred years, but Angelus...   
  


Cor, listen to me wax poetic, like I'm one of the bloody Brownings.   
  


"I shall but love thee better after death."   
  


I shake my head and wheel myself to the room he's chosen. The factory is full of nooks and crannies, complete with mattresses and bedding from the former inhabitants. I'm sure some minion is none-too-happy with losing his room. If the minion was smart -- and I'm not holding my metaphorical breath -- he would've said "Here you go, mate, enjoy my room" to Angelus and went on his merry way. More than likely, though, I've got one less minion and one more pile of ashes.   
  


See, no one understands exactly who Angelus is. The toads that hang around the factory figure he's just another vampire come for a visit.   
  


Angelus is anything but 'just another vampire.'   
  


My sire came storming back here a short while ago, soaking wet and cursing up a blue streak. I found out from Dru, who'd returned home in tears, that the Slayer offed the Judge. Plucky little chit, that Slayer, and a bit scary. She destroyed something that supposedly _couldn't_ be destroyed. I'm lucky I'm simply stuck in a bleedin' wheelchair instead of dust cloggin' up those organ pipes.   
  


I knock on Angelus's door and wait. I haven't really spent any time alone with the old son since his return to the Dark Side. He'd disappeared soon after telling Dru and I the good soulless news. Then, later, after he'd done something daft to the Slayer, he'd been too busy planning where to take the Big Blue Wanker than to play with me.   
  


The door is suddenly jerked open and my sire is standing there, wearing only an angry scowl. "What?" he barks.   
  


My mouth opens and closes several times as I try to speak. What finally comes out is a most intelligent, "Uhh..."   
  


Well, you try and talk when you're literally face-to-face with another man's naked crotch.   
  


Normally, this is when I'd curse the wheelchair, but...   
  


"What do you want, Spike?" Angelus asks in irritation.   
  


"You got a minute, mate?" I squeak out in my 'Angelus is naked and standing a foot from me' voice.   
  


Angelus abruptly turns, walks back into the room, bends over, and... um... uh... erm... What was I saying?   
  


"In or out, Spike," Angelus snaps. He slides on a pair of pants.   
  


Damn.   
  


I wheel into the room, my dick trying valiantly to salute Angelus and failing miserably. Through practice, I know how to close the door behind me without getting in the way. I sicced Dru on the minions who dared to laugh at me the first few times I'd attempted the simple process of shutting the door. She said their eyeballs tasted like sour grapes.   
  


"Dru says the plan went tits up," I say conversationally, glad that I have my normal voice back. A second puberty I do not need. "Says the Slayer blew the Big Guy to smithereens."   
  


"That little bitch went and got herself a rocket launcher," Angelus gripes, throwing himself on the bed.   
  


I expected more tantrum throwing. Angelus had always excelled at throwing a right loud fit.   
  


Instead, a huge bloody smile graces his lips. "But, she can't kill me," he says smugly.   
  


You know how a lion looks when he's sprawled out in the sunlight, licking his paws clean of the blood from its recent kill, and he's got this self-satisfied look on his mug? The one that reads: "I just ate your momma and she was finger-lickin' good?"   
  


Angelus looks like that, right now.   
  


I don't know whether to be scared or volunteer to be next on his meal ticket. I can do finger-lickin' good. I can lick other places, too.   
  


Can anyone tell I haven't gotten laid recently?   
  


Not like anything works down there. Stupid Slayer bint.   
  


"So, what're you going to do next?" I ask, wheeling closer to the bed and Angelus's pale, muscular chest. My fingers itch to touch, to see if he still feels as I remember. Is he still ticklish right above his hip bone? Does he still like to have his nipples pinched? Will my head still rest perfectly in the crook of his shoulder?   
  


"I don't know," Angelus taps his lips with his finger, "I'll have to think about it."   
  


"I guess that means you'll be around for the next day or two," I say casually, instead of throwing my arms in the air and shouting: "Yay!" Subtlety is much more dignified.   
  


Angelus's eyebrow goes upward, pulling one corner of his mouth with it. Quirk and smirk. Ut-oh.   
  


"Did little Spikey miss his daddy?" he taunts.   
  


Well, yes, but I'm not about to say so when you put it like that, tosser.   
  


"No," I grouch. "I just needed to know so I can hide my liquor, you soddin' mick."   
  


As pathetic excuses go... oi.   
  


I start for the door as fast as my little wheels can roll. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's being teased, even by my sire. Angelus loves to exploit weaknesses, especially if it means he can hear himself talk. And after that excuse, I'm done for. Might as well have a sign pinned to my back that reads: "Make fun of the cripple who still moons after his sire."   
  


"Spike, get back here," Angelus demands.   
  


I stiffen. Sire-voice. Must obey. Wah.   
  


I turn the chair around and reluctantly wheel back to the bed, the _Death March_ playing in my mind. Why did I come to Angelus's room again?   
  


I wanted to spend time alone with my sire.   
  


Boy, am I a bloody idiot.   
  


"Come up here on the bed with me," Angelus says.   
  


My gaze shoots from my knees to his face in happy shock, before I remember that I'm not supposed to show that I care. I drop my chin and shake my head. "Can't," I tell him.   
  


"Are you disobeying me?" Angelus asks with a syrupy sweetness in his tone.   
  


Now, I'm easily able to give him an angry look that completely hides my caring. "Are you effin' blind?" I hit the arms of the wheelchair. "I _can't_ , you nonce."   
  


Angelus sighs and unfurls from the bed, like a lion rising from the bush. I swallow in nervousness as I look up and up and up. Shite, I'd forgotten how bloody tall he is.   
  


"You never change," he mutters as he grasps me under the arms and hoists me out of the chair.   
  


Before I can fully comprehend what's happening, I'm on the bed, tucked into his arms, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder -- it's a still a perfect fit -- and my body snuggled against his.   
  


Oh, how nice.   
  


A soppy smile curves my lips and I relax into his embrace. This is why I came to Angelus's room, though I'd still never say so out loud.   
  


Angelus is back.   
  


And unlife couldn't get any better.   
  
  
  


**End**   
  



End file.
